Never Been Kissed: A Ghost's Tale
by Tiny Q
Summary: What happens when Ginny dies and becomes a ghost? Well obviously she would haunt the man who killed her. Or better yet: his son. D/G
1. Unemotional Malfoys

Title: Never Been Kissed: A Ghost's Tale  
  
Author: Tiny Q  
  
E-Mail: one_legged_lesbian_seagull@hotmail.com  
  
A/N: Hello all. I know I should not start another fic until I at least finish 'Muggle Music', but I have been sitting on this one for such a long time and I finally had to get it out. So here it is. I hope to make it funny but it might just turn out to be angst. So for now it will just be put under the genre of romance. Though it will be an odd sort of romance... How about I just let you read eh?  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Harry Potter. Well except maybe merchendise... But I don't know if someone has ever written something like this, so until I find out the plot is mine.  
  
Never Been Kissed: A Ghost's Tale  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Unemotional Mafloys  
  
~*~  
  
Ginny couldn't believe it. They were finally here. It had been a rumor at first. A terrible and sadistic rumor that few said that they believed, but all secretly feared. The Death Eaters were attacking Hogwarts. The Death Eaters were attacking with a force no one thought they possessed.  
  
None in the school, the Resistance or the Alliance had expected Voldemort's army to be quite so large. As far as intelligence had told them his following was not being as well received as the previous time. But the large force had swarmed around the Quidditch Pitch.  
  
Nearly all the school had been there to whiteness the latest battle between Slytherin and Gryffindor. It was the perfect opportunity to attack in retrospect. So it was for that reason that Albus Dumbledore, head of the Resistance and the new Alliance, had had the Aurors, giants and other creatures in the Alliance on call.  
  
Yet by the time this extra help had arrived the damage had already been done. The audience, or the Quidditch players themselves, however had not been completely helpless. It had been a standard rule of the past few years to go nowhere without one's wand. If Voldemort thought his army could move in with out any resistance, he was greatly mistaken.  
  
And that was how Ginny Weasley came to be outside in the growing dark of late February, fighting for her life and the lives around her. Somehow she had gotten separated from her friends and brother when it had all began. She silently prayed that they were alright for everywhere she heard screams of anger and pain. She had caused a few herself as she blasted off hex after hex at the army in black.  
  
She was still being forced to retreat though. A single sixth year could not hold off over a dozen enemy forces. She caught sight of a convenient group of trees out of the corner of her eye and moved swiftly toward hem being careful not to turn her back on the enemy.  
  
Just as she reached the trees she felt the back of her heel hit something. She fell to the ground hard before she even realized she was falling backwards. She looked towards her feet to see an upturned tree root.  
  
'Bloody trees,' she thought darkly, glaring at the offending root. She looked up at her new surroundings and let out a small gasp. There was someone in there as well. Someone that was dressed in a black cloak.  
  
The sound she made attracted the individual's attention and she gasped once more. The Death Eater was no wearing his white mask. Her eyes widened as she stared at the man she hated most next to Riddle.  
  
"Malfoy," she whispered, staring at the tall man with his platinum blond hair in disarray. His sharply angled face carried a large amount of satisfaction and Ginny did not want to guess why.  
  
His cold, grey eyes turned and fell on her as she scrambled to her feet, clutching her wands. He narrowed them as he stared at her, looking her up and down. Ginny fought the urge to cross her arms. Suddenly the man grinned slightly.  
  
"Well look what we have here," he drawled, amusement in his voice. "A Weasley. And not just any Weasley, no. Arthur's only daughter." He grinned wider. "The one who rejected the Dark Lord."  
  
"Shut up!" she snapped, holding out her wand. Anger was cursing through her. "You're the one who gave me that bloody book in the first place!"  
  
"Yes, I did," he smirked, walking towards her. Ginny held her ground. "And now I will finish the job he failed to do."  
  
With movement so quick that it was almost silent, Lucius Malfoy lunged towards Ginny, a silver object in his hand.  
  
Ginny cried out as the object slid under her ribs, feeling like ice. She whimpered as the object was torn from her, leaving the freezing feeling to spread alarmingly quickly through out her body. She slumped forward into her attacker and he grabbed her arms. Her wand fell from her hands.  
  
"And now I hope, Miss Weasley," he whispered quietly into her ear. "That you will die properly. You have caused me more than enough trouble than you are worth as it is." With that he let her fall to the ground.  
  
Without even a backward glance at his handiwork, the Death Eater walked away, black cloak billowing. Ginny stared after him wide eyed. She tried to call out but found her mouth was full of blood. She tried to move but it seemed the freezing feeling was inhibiting her movement.  
  
'Poison,' she thought in a panic. 'I've been poisoned.' She paused. 'And stabbed. And now I am going to lie here and die all alone on this bloody cold ground.' She felt a tear leak out of her eye, though if it was from sadness or from pain she did not know. 'I'm going to die here all alone and no one will ever know what really happened to me.' Another tear.  
  
Closing her eyes to be rid of the moisture that was blurring her vision, Ginny found that she could not get them to open again. A wave of tiredness over came her that was more powerful than any she had ever felt. Her head swam and she thought her body was following suit, drifting through oblivion.  
  
'My family will never know that their enemy finally finished me off,' was her final thought before darkness over came her.  
  
~*~  
  
Draco Malfoy ran as far and as fast as his long legs would take him. He knew it was cowardly to run, but he couldn't help it. It seemed his whole world was being turned upside-down with no remorse. The Death Eaters, his father's clan, we're attacking everyone in sight. Including the Slytherins.  
  
'Maybe they just don't realize we're Slytherins?' he wondered, dodging another of the black cloaked figures and dashing behind a crop of rocks. He glanced down at his now filthy green Quidditch robes. Perhaps they would be enough to mark his Slytherinism, but he dared no stop and find out. Not after what he had witnessed.  
  
Both Crabbe and Goyle shot down. Their size alone would tell you who they are- 'were'.  
  
Draco pushed them from his mind. He wanted to push everything from his mind. If there had been a button on his head to give him amnesia he surely would have pushed it. Anything to be free of the horror and confusion he was feeling.  
  
Coming free of the rocks and moving swiftly behind a large section of trees, Draco felt his foot snag. He felt the hard ground before he even realized that he had fallen. Looking back in annoyance he saw a sea of red.  
  
At first he thought he was bleeding but on closer analysis he realized the blood was not his own. That the redness was not blood, but hair.  
  
"Weasley," he moaned, recognizing the only Weasley female child. The Weasley that always seemed cheerful and happy even when the world told her to frown and be miserable. And her damned annoying voice was enough to drive Draco over the edge. Not that he heard it too often, but when he did.  
  
Draco rolled himself around to look down at her. She was bleeding from her stomach. Without quite realizing what he was doing, he reached out and touched the girl's sprawled wrist.  
  
Nothing.  
  
He reached for her neck.  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Weasley?" he asked, his voice weak in his ears, not being quite able to bring himself to realize that the girl was dead. That he had stumbled across another dead body even, if it was the dead body of Weasley's younger sister. "Weasley, can you hear me?"  
  
A moment later, Draco gasped.  
  
~*~  
  
Ginny awoke with a start. The sound of someone's voice had pulled her from her dream. I had been a terrible dream full of fear and death and pain. She looked up at the individual who had rescued her from the terror she had felt. Only that it was someone she never dreamed would be there. And he was filthy and covered in mud.  
  
"Malfoy, what are you doing?" she demanded, pulling herself into a sitting position. She felt no pain. It had to have been a dream then. A very twisted and wrong dream.  
  
The blond boy sat back quickly, looking at her with widening eyes.  
  
"What's wrong with you?" she demanded, frowning at the Slytherin's show of surprise. It unnerved her worse than the dream had. As far as she was concerned, all Malfoys were unemotional bastards. "I can't look that bad."  
  
He continued to stare at her for a moment. "Weasley, you're dead," he finally croaked.  
  
Ginny's right eye grew larger than the left. "That's the most-" she looked down at herself and gasped.  
  
Blue mist. She was made of blue mist. Just like the ghosts of Hogwarts.  
  
"Oh Merlin. I'm dead!"  
  
She looked around wildly as though top spot the person responsible for this terrible joke. There was no one around but the trees. She was in the same clearing she had been in when she fell before she had awoken. She could still hear the screams and shouts from her dream. Except she realized now that it had not been a dream. It had been the waking world and she had just left it. But why would she come back? Her mind drew a blank.  
  
"What happened?" she asked the still surprised looking boy. He stared at her for a moment longer then frowned, seeming to get over whatever he had felt.  
  
"How the hell am I supposed to know, Weasley?" he demanded. "You were just in my way and I found you lying here." He narrowed his eyes. "And shouldn't you know what happened?"  
  
Ginny narrowed her eyes and tried to think as to what had happened. Nothing came to mind. She finally shrugged. "No."  
  
Malfoy looked at her for a moment. It was as though he were trying to detect a lie. Finally he shook his head and stood up. Ginny stared up at him. He seemed very tall.  
  
"Where are you going?" she asked, rising to her feet, only to discover she had none. Her feet simply faded into a trail of blue mist. She attempted to raise one leg and it moved as it normally would, trailing the blue mist as it did. Yet she could no longer walk as she once would have. 'This is going to take a bit of getting used to.' she thought silently, resisting the urge to click her tongue.  
  
She turned her eyes back to Malfoy. "Where are you going?" she repeated.  
  
He turned and stared at her. Ginny frowned. Something didn't seem right. The boy before her looked quite lost.  
  
"I have to get out of here," he said slowly, no longer quite looking at her.  
  
Snap.  
  
A twig to the left of them beyond the trees sounded. Malfoy's head snapped in that direction, eyes narrowing suspiciously. It seemed it was all he needed to bring him back to life.  
  
"I have to go," he repeated. Turning on his heel he quickly strode away from her, filthy green robes billowing behind him.  
  
Ginny floated there for a moment, watching his retreating back. A sense of loss and importance over came her in such a way that she had never felt. She almost gasped aloud in surprise. She narrowed her eyes and mentally sighed in disgust.  
  
'You have got to be kidding me,' she thought in anger, glaring after the blond boy. 'There is no way in hell that I am going to follow him.' Yet as the feeling increased, she found herself floating after him. 'Bloody hell.'  
  
~*~  
  
Draco had no idea as to where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away. Away from everything that was going on. Away from all the insanity. Away from Weasley's dead sister.  
  
'It has to be a dream,' he thought numbly. 'Weasley will kill me.' He paused. 'I don't know why, but he'll find some twisted reason.' He paused in his thinking to dash behind some more trees.  
  
"Where are you going, Malfoy?" a voice hissed in his ear. Jumping, Draco whipped around to see the semi-transparent image of the Weasley girl in his face. She looked as she had when she had lived. The same stubborn face. Same horridly blaring freckles. Same red hair, though it didn't look so red anymore. It was more blue now, making it look all the more terrible in his eyes.  
  
"Gah," he let out in a strangled sort of way. "What the hell Weasley?" he demanded. "Why are you following me?"  
  
"I'm not really following you," she said with a shrug. "But I don't really have any where else to go. I mean, what does a ghost do?"  
  
"Be dead and leave me alone," he hissed, turning away from her once more and proceeded to walk quickly away. He decided that to return to the school was the best place to go. It seemed as though the fighting was slowing down. Which either meant the school was winning and everyone was returning to the school or that the Death Eaters were winning and were taking over the school. Either way it seemed the school was the place to be.  
  
"Why are you hiding in the trees?" the dead girl's voice hissed in his ear once more.  
  
"Go away Weasley," he hissed without jumping or turning around. He continued to walk. 'Stupid red head,' he thought angrily. 'Even when they're dead they suck.'  
  
"Nope," she replied simply.  
  
Whipping around, Draco had to glare up to look at her. She was now about six feet off the ground. And she was in plain sight to be seen, meaning she could attract attention to him. He narrowed his grey-blue eyes, taking in a deep breath in the intentions of trying to calm himself down.  
  
"Leave me alone!" he bellowed out with this breath. It did help to calm him a bit. Though her response made his anger increase two fold.  
  
"Don't think I will, thanks," she replied sweetly, grinning down on him with this insufferable grin. She even had the nerve to twiddle her fingers down on him.  
  
Shaking his head, Draco turned away from her and continued his trek to the school with the intentions of ignoring the dead girl. He figured he would have ignored her if she were alive, so why not dead as well? His intentions however fell flat when the girl began to speak once more.  
  
"You know," her voice called down to him. "I wouldn't be going this way if I were you."  
  
"And why not?" he asked curtly, not even bothering to turn around. He wasn't sure why but she seemed to get more irritating by the moment.  
  
"Because there's a large group of Death Eaters about two hundred yards away," she said. Draco stopped once more and turned around to glare up at her.  
  
"And why should I trust you?" he demanded. He could feel his face heating up. "All you've been doing is following me around like some dog."  
  
"Wow," she sneered down on him darkly. "For a whole five minutes. Your life is really going to end, Malfoy." She paused. "On second thought, keep going that way. Then when you become a ghost by your father's slimy hand I can say I told you so."  
  
Draco could have sworn he saw red flash before his eyes. For some reason what she had said struck a nerve. Perhaps it was the stress catching up with him or he had simply lost his mind. Either way he snapped.  
  
"That's it!" he cried, stooping down to pick up a rock that lay conveniently at his feet. With out a moment's hesitation he hurled the object at the girl floating above him. The rock sailed by her and they both watched as it crashed to the ground.  
  
"Well that was effective," she said dryly, cocking an eyebrow. "You know, you should look into a career of it. I'm sure the Muggle baseball teams would love to have you."  
  
Draco let out a short scream of frustration, stooping once more to pick up a second rock. "Just go away!" he screamed, his already disordered hair flailing about his face as he threw the second rock.  
  
Ginny grinned slightly and attempted to catch the flying projectile. And she did. Both her and Draco stopped and stared at the rock that now lay in her blue misted hand.  
  
"You're a poltergeist," Draco said simply, staring blankly at the object in her hand. The object that seemed to have brought him back to reality once more.  
  
"Apparently," she said in awe, looking at the object as well.  
  
They stood like this for a time before an evil grin began to spread across her face. Draco did not like it one bit. It was unnatural looking, even for a ghost. Her sweet face contorting into something dark and sinister. She glanced from the rock to him, and he began to realize what she was smirking about.  
  
"Don't you dare." he said slowly, trying to put as much authority into his voice as he could. "Don't you fucking dare."  
  
"Or what?" she demanded, the grin now showing off glinting teeth. ''You'll throw another rock at me?" She grinned wider. "Face it Malfoy. I'm going to haunt you until the day you die. You will rue the day you ever thought about teasing us Weasleys."  
  
~*~  
  
A/N: Well, that's it. The first "lovely" chapter. So tell me, smash or trash? I vote trash. But if you want to know why Ginny's a little psycho tagalong or why Draco is so terribly rude to the dead (cause there is a reason), then please vote smash. 


	2. When Peeves Attacks

Title: Never Been Kissed: A Ghost's Tale

Author: Tiny Q

E-Mail: one_legged_lesbian_seagull@hotmail.com

A/N: Wow.  People thought this was smash.  And not just a few people, a lot of people.  I am really rather surprised, and honored.  Let's just hope this one doesn't slip like Muggle Music did.  Bah.  Oh well, hope you enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: Nothing.  I posses nothing to do with Harry Potter.  Well not the rights to it anyway...

**Never Been Kissed: A Ghost's Tale******

**Chapter 2 **

**When Peeves Attacks**

~*~

            Ginny Weasley stared at her reflection with a mixture of wonderment and disbelief.  She really was dead.  She looked like herself: her red hair still slightly red, her freckles still slightly brown, but she was mainly blue.  Almost as if a blue light was being permanently set on her, casting no shadow.  This blue light also seemed to make her transparent, for she could see the far wall through her head.  It was the most peculiar sensation, ranking up there with seeing your seemingly sleeping self be buried.

            Her funeral had been the day before.  She had not been the only casualty either for there had been several other students and adults at the ceremony along side her.  She was the only ghost of the lot though and despite warnings from those she knew, she hid and watched the proceedings anyway.  It had probably been a mistake, for she still could not get the image of her dead self lying in the casket as everyone walked by and spoke words to her as if they would never see her again.  

            'But they will!' she insisted in her head.  'I'm not going anywhere!  I'm going to stay here and finish school.'

            This had been the plan she had come up with after floating about in a complete stupor over what to do.  She concluded she would try and learn as much as she could then do something.  Yet as to what, she still hadn't decided.  When she had informed Dumbledore of this he simply smiled a knowing smile and said: "What ever you think you need to do Miss Weasley."  She had then been told that she could no longer stay in the dorm room she had residence and must leave.  He gave her the option of finding a vacant room anywhere in the castle to keep her belongings in for as long as she needed them.  She wondered what he meant by that last part but pushed it from her mind.  That was what she needed to do now in fact, but she found that her reflection was too queer to give up just yet.

            With a sigh, she appraised the apparel she would wear for the rest of eternity, or at least until she passed on.  She was content that the clothing articles she wore were not thread bare as most of her garments were.  In fact, the clothes she wore were her best.  A sad, and piss poor attempt to impress Harry Potter on her last day of living.  Not that that really mattered anymore.  He hadn't even cried at her funeral.  Not many people had in fact and neither had she.  

            But relationships like that were no longer of any relevance to her.  She was a ghost and he was a human.  She was dead and he was alive.  A relationship like that would _never_ work out.  Even if she was a poltergeist.  She could no longer spend her days swooning over Harry or following him around in an attempt to get him to notice her.  He was dead to her in a way.  And for some reason this didn't make her feel as terrible as she thought it would.

            Turning away from the mirror she drifted out of the bathroom she had occupied.  The attack had caused the professors to postpone classes until further notice.  That had been over a week ago.  So at the moment most students were outside, trying to enjoy their haunted freedom as much they could.  

            With a tiny smile on her lips at the blessed silence, Ginny drifted down the hall in search of her new room.

~*~

            Draco Malfoy sat on the side of his bed, staring at the rest of him dorm room.  He had been in the infirmary for the past seven days, lying there and taking potion after potion.  Madame Pomfrey had claimed he was suffering from shock, but it didn't mean anything to him, he just wanted the images of that night to be erased from his mind.  She had said that that was impossible, but that in time they would fade, that he would find new and better memories to cover them up.  He thought her daft, but already he noticed Crabbe's face wasn't quite as clear.  But then, he could simply be imagining that.

            Now he was alone.  Crabbe and Goyle had truly been his only friends.  His best friends.  He realized that they hadn't exactly been the joking type and more followed him around than anything else, but they were still his friends.  And now they were gone.

            Their beds had been removed, leaving a large and empty space in the center of the dorm room.  There were only two beds left now, his and that of Blaise Zabini.  A boy he could not stand in the slightest, and the three of them had often ignored him as best they could.  Draco had no intentions of changing his ways now.  Even if it meant he would be alone.  

            With a frustrated sigh he stood up.  'If I stay here I'm going to drive myself insane,' he thought angrily, beginning to pace before his bed.  'If I'm not already.'

            The handle of the door across from him turned, yet the person who was opening it seemed to hesitate before pushing the heavy barricade open.  When it was opened however, Draco met the eyes of the only other seventh year Slytherin boy in the school.  

            "You are in here," he said quietly, simply standing in the doorway.  Draco looked at him.  The two of them had nothing in common except their height and blue eyes, though the eyes of the boy before him had no trace of gray in them.  

            "Where do you expect me to be, Zabini?" Draco snapped.  He had stopped his pacing the moment the door had opened.  

            "The infirmary?" Blaise asked coldly, walking into the room to where his own bed was.  They were on opposite ends of the room.  They always had been, with Draco's two large friends in between them.  He never had had a problem with this, yet some part of him, deep down persisted that he needed to be closer to someone, and not so faraway.  He told that part of him to screw off.

            "So what are you doing in here?" the other boy's muffled voice drifted over to him as he seemed to search for something under his bed.  Draco frowned.  'Why would he keep things under his bed?' he thought with distaste.  'It's all dirty under there.'

            "I was just leaving," he replied simply and proceeded to leave the room without a backwards glance at the boy sprawled out on the floor, half his body under his bed.  

            'Yes, just leaving,' he thought to himself, trudging down the stairs to the Common Room.  There were a few fifth years in front of the fireplace, but other than that the dank and dreary room was vacant.  He had no problem with this, except the thought that if the rest of his house was not in this room, they had to be scattered about the school.  

            He had no idea where these antisocial thoughts were coming from.  Sure he had never been the social butterfly of Slytherin house, but he had never wanted to be away from people as badly as he did now.  They all just seemed too happy at the moment for no apparent reason.

            He made his way out into the halls of the dungeons and was about to head towards the Entrance Hall when he heard voices from that direction drift down and greet his ears.

            "Can you believe her?" a rather high-pitched voice cooed.  "You'd think she was an angel or something the way she looked down at us."        

            Figuring there was no place else to go, Draco headed towards the voices.  As he turned the corner he saw Pansy Parkinson and her small gang of girls.  All the ditzes he found he had trouble standing, no matter who he was with or what they were saying.  They didn't seem to notice him at first.

            "Draco!" Pansy suddenly shrieked, seeming to finally notice the blond at the bottom of the stairs.  With two gigantic, leading steps, she flung her arms around him squealing with delight.  "You're back!  You're better!"  She let out another squeal.  "You're back!"  

            "Uh, yes," he said, and patted her back a little awkwardly, she had her arms fastened right around his own.  "Can you let go of me now?"  

            She held on for a moment longer, then released him and stepped back.  She looked down on him, her long charmed blond hair bobbing as she did so.  "We." She gestured at the other girls behind her.  "Have all been so worried.  They wouldn't tell us what was wrong.  They wouldn't even let us come and see you."

            'Well there was probably a reason for that,' he thought darkly.  He hadn't been the only one in the hospital wing.  There had been others in there with far worse injuries than the ones he had had.  He still wasn't even sure why he had to be there in the first place, he still felt the same as he had when he had gone in, but he could still analyze that one later.

            "But you're alright now, aren't you?" she asked, staring earnestly at his face.  Draco stared back, keeping any emotion from his eyes.  He could never tell when this girl was being serious or not.  He knew it was physically impossible for her to be so happy all the time.  Actually, she could be rather evil when she wanted to be.  But as he stared at her, he could see concern, yet it was just covered up by the squealing and bubbly attitude.  It sent a chill down his spine.  He did not want Pansy's concern.  He didn't want anyone's concern.  He simply wanted to be left alone.

            "I'm fine," he said curtly.  For an instant he thought he saw hurt flash through the girl's eyes.  He ignored it.  "Now if you don't mind," he began to walk past her.  "I have somewhere to go."

            He thought he would get away without hearing her voice once more.  He was mistaken however.  "Well if you need anything," she called after him.  "We'll be in the Common Room!"  He continued on his way, not showing that he had heard the girl at all.

            A few moments later he made his way into the Entrance Hall.  It was devoid of people and he was about to head outside, when he heard singing.  It was odd.  He had never heard anyone in the school sing before.  All his previous thoughts dropped away and he moved towards the sound.  As he got closer he realized it was female, high but gruff.  It was pleasant in a way and soothing in another.  Not that he would ever admit this to anyone.  

            "My memory is muddy, what's this river I'm in," the voice rang out.  He headed up a flight of stairs into a dimly lit hall.  There was something moving near the end of it.  He walked toward it, feeling that he needed to know whose voice it was, though he had no idea as to why.  "New Orleans is sinking and I don't want to swim!"

            A few moments later he met up with who was singing and he didn't like it in the slightest.  It was the person who was supposedly supposed to haunt him till the day he died.  He hadn't seen her for about a week.  Not that he missed her.  Not in the slightest.  

            "Ain't got no picture post- " her voice stopped short when she realized there was someone beside her.   She looked down on him, seemingly startled.  "Oh, it's you," she said darkly, beginning to frown.  "Come to throw more rocks at me?"

            "What were you singing, Weasley?" he asked, not quite sure as to why.  'What does it matter to me?' he wondered, yet continued to stare at the ghost expectantly.  

            "I thought you didn't like Muggles," she sneered slightly, lowering herself to what would be the ground if she could stand.  He never realized how tall the girl actually was.  Not as tall as her brother, but she a few inches shy of his own height.  Not that it mattered.

            "What does that have to do with anything?" he drawled, staring at her.  He found it odder than he had on his first encounter with her.  She argued like a Weasley, yet he could see right through her head.  'There's nothing there but air,' he concluded, trying to keep himself from grinning.

            "It's a Muggle song, Malfoy," she said exasperatedly, shaking her head at him.

            He frowned.  "So?" he asked snootily.  He really didn't care, he just wanted to know. But he still wasn't quite sure as to why.

            She stared at him for a moment then shrugged.  "New Orleans is Sinking, by The Tragically Hip," she finally replied.  "Not that it should matter to you.  I thought you and your father were totally against anything Muggle."

            "Me and my father aren't exactly alike, Weasley," he replied darkly.  

            "Whatever," she sneered down on him, then turned and floated down the hall.  She paused at a door, opened it and poked her semitransparent head in.  Shaking it, she turned to the door that was across the hall.

            "What are you doing?" Malfoy hissed, staring at her.  He didn't really care, but he found himself walking towards her.

            "Not that it matters to you," she replied, opening yet another door and looking about it.  "But I am finding myself a new residence."

            "A new residence?" he scoffed.  "What, did they kick you out of your dorm?"

            "I did not get kicked out," she sneered.  "I was asked to leave."  He frowned up at her, for she was again about a foot off the ground.  She glared down on him.  "Get lost Malfoy," she growled suddenly.  "You're annoying me."

            "Oh, I wouldn't want to do that," he said, his voice full of insincere sincerity.

            "Just leave me alone," she snapped, not looking at him.

            With that, he left.

~*~

            Ginny spent most of the day searching what seemed to be every room in the school.  She even found rooms she never knew existed.  Yet even though she searched rooms that were far from any of the students or staff of the school, it was a room that was close to the Entrance Hall that she felt was the best of the lot. 

            There was nothing special at all about the room.  It was an abandoned classroom with windows that traveled from floor to ceiling all across the wall opposite the door.  It was rather nice, yet chilly at the same time.  Not that it would matter to her.  Ginny no longer felt heat or cold.  But for the life, or death of her she couldn't figure out why this room out of all the others was the one that she seemed to want to stay in.  There had been other rooms.  More glamorous and cozy rooms that she would have died for but weeks before.  But it seemed that this simple, chilly room was the room for her.

            All of her belongings had already been moved, most likely by the house elves after she had informed the Headmaster of her decision.  He simply smiled knowingly and said he would make the arrangements to make it too her liking.  She wanted some furniture and he said it would be there the next day.  But the more she thought about it, she really didn't need furniture.  Did ghosts even sit on chairs?  Or did they make their own out of the air.

            She never really realized that there were a lot of things she didn't know about ghosts, let alone being one.  Did they sleep?  She figured that one out on her own after about a week of not feeling the least bit tired.  Did ghosts eat?  Obviously not.  There was no place for the digested food to go.  It would be rather disgusting to see it floating about inside her.  So that was another thing she would have to live without.  So then what did ghosts do?  

            A feeling over came her then, as she floated before the window, not really looking out.  It was failure to her, yet she couldn't remember from where.  It seemed important, yet there was no explanation as to why.  Just that she was in the right place and that she shouldn't leave.  

            Sighing with frustration, Ginny sat down on the floor.  Yet, even after a week of being dead, she still hadn't completely mastered the skill of being not entirely there.  So in other words, she didn't sit on the floor, she went right through it.

            Giving out a small yelp, she managed to stop herself from drifting right down to the floor bellow her own.  Spreading out her arms and legs, causing the blue mist she was made of to swirl around her with the movement, she floated near the ceiling of this new room.

            It was dark, and she had to squint to see what was in there.  She could make out what seemed to be two occupied beds on opposite ends of the room.  The curtains had been drawn shut so she assumed that who ever lay on them, was asleep or close to.  Her curiosity getting the better of her, she floated downward to the bed farthest from the door.  Pulling back the curtain slightly, she peeked in.  Her hand flew to her mouth in an attempt to make no exclamation at what she saw.

            Draco Malfoy lay on the bed, his face turned towards her.  His face was devoid of emotion, simply relaxed.  It was the face of a person that was sound asleep.  Ginny stared at him, taking in how different he looked without a sneer plastered on his face.  'He almost looks cute and innocent,' she found herself musing, then realized what she was saying.  'Those are two words that should never, _ever_ be used to describe Malfoy again.  Ever.'

            It seemed to be this flare of animosity that brought realization to her exact situation.  She had chosen a new room for herself that she seemed to like for no apparent reason.  She had chosen a room right above Malfoy's own.  She floated there, wondering what it could possibly mean.  He was the catalyst of the odd feeling.

            Disgust washed over her and Ginny felt that she had to get away as fast as she bloody well could.  Dropping the heavy curtain around his bed, she glanced around.  There was no other sensible way to get out than the way she had come.  So with a speed she didn't know she was capable, the red head bolted upward, through the ceiling and back into the room she had chosen.  

            Looking around, she frantically thought she had to get out.  Without even opening the door she floated straight through the door.  Straight though the door and into another floating, blue essence.

            "Hey!" the blue individual cried sharply.  "Watch where you're going!"

            Ginny looked at the ghost she had run into.  She hadn't encountered any of them since she had died.  It was rather odd now that she thought about it, but here was one now.  It was Peeves.

            "Sorry," she muttered, and proceeded to float past him.  She had never liked Peeves.  And she had a feeling that the poltergeist had never liked her either.  

            "I know you," he said after a moment, causing her to turn around.  She was half scared he would declare her a Weasley and attack her or something stupid like that.  "You're the new ghost."  He floated up to her and poked her in the shoulder.  His usually smirking face twisted with a frown.  He backed up.  "You're a poltergeist," he practically sneered.  

            Ginny stared at him, taken aback.  "That's right," she said slowly, floating backwards a few feet.  

            The ghost's face twisted further.  "Hogwarts is my school, girl," he snarled, seeming to compress and look ready to spring.  Ginny felt a pang of fear sharper than any she had ever felt.  Even more powerful than the ones she had received from Tom Riddle.  Could a one poltergeist hurt another?  She wasn't too keen on finding out.  "I am the only one who has the right to haunt it," he moved towards her then, slowly and menacingly.  "Leave!"

            "Uh..." Ginny found herself muttering, backing up further.  She had never seen Peeves get so mad.  He had always just been a nuisance, never a threat.  "I don't have anywhere to go..."    "Do you think I care?" the advancing ghost snapped.  "Just leave!  Get out of here before you do any more damage!"

            "Damage?" Ginny asked, beginning to feel confused.  How could she have done any damage?  She hadn't _done_ anything.  

            "I said-" the ghost began to bellow.

            "Peeves!" someone from behind her said sharply.  The ghost stopped, his eyes going wide with fear and shock.  Ginny whirled around to see the Bloody Baron a few feet behind her looking as menacing as ever.  A few feet behind him Nearly Headless Nick floated, looking concerned.  "You get away from her," he advanced a few feet.  The poltergeist retreated.  "You leave her alone."  There was no need for the ghost to raise his voice, his appearance was menacing enough.

            "Sorry sir," the ghost behind her apologized.  Ginny looked back at him to see him looking quite terrified.  "So sorry."  With that he turned and barreled down the hall and around the corner.

            Ginny stared after him for a moment, not sure as to what she should be feeling.  If anything she was simply more confused than ever.

            "So you are the new ghost," the Bloody Baron said to her, causing her to turn and look at him.  He was smiling at her, or at least what could only be considered a smile.  Ginny stared at him.  She had never really encountered him before, but the rumors she had heard had been that he was terribly frightening.  "Come here my dear."

            She hesitated then floated over to him.  Nearly Headless Nick approached as well.  "We heard a student had turned over, but we have been having problems finding you," the nearly decapitated ghost claimed, stopping beside his companion.  She simply nodded.  "We were hoping to find you before Peeves did."

            "Why-" she croaked, finding her voice was trying to leave her.  "Why did he act like that?"

            "Because he feels threatened," the Bloody Baron said simply, causing Ginny to look at him with surprise.

            "Threatened of me?" she asked.  "How?"

            "We have a lot to explain to you," Nearly Headless Nick said reasonably.  "Come, now is as good a time as any."     

            Realizing that she really had nothing else to do, she shrugged.  A few moments later she found herself trailing after the two older ghosts to who knows where.

~*~

A/N: Well, there you go.  I know there wasn't much D/G interaction in here, but it was more of a foundation chapter, laying the basis for the story.  I know the first chapter should have done that, but it turned out to be more of a prologue now that I think about it.  Oh well.  Next chapter is where things should start to pick up.  Or at least I hope to make them pick up... And I know I made Ginny sing.  But I like to make people sing... But this part of the story will be explained as well.   

Many thanks to: **kelly****, GinnyYvetteHermione(Oh, she will...)**, Sharie, Laiannon-fae-elf**(Really? A billion??)**, Furiya Celine, draco-iz-a-hottie, NACHO(**Never really thought about that, but they probably would or will or- never mind. ~grin~)**, Harrygirlie**(Really? An A+??)**, IndigoStar12020(**ok)****, December's Girl, karen, my parents didnt name me... there's a whole story to it... but its really long and i dont want to bore you to death... so i'll save the story for another time when its needed(Hissy fit? Please no. Love the name BTW)**, Mooniala Trials, sparkling fire fly, FPB Hunter Keri NSJ, Katie Bell**(Ed's Smash or Trash. Great show)****, ye ye(You'll see soon enough ~grin~)****, Lallie(Oh happy day! Originality and funniness. Don't get much better than that. Well maybe chocolate, but chocolate makes you fat after a while...)****, jessica(That was a hard one to write. I didn't want to make it too gory or too stupid either. ~shrug~ But thanks)****, Cygnet(Ginny's Ghost? Who's the author? Just wondering)**, HippieLady, scamp(**Well I wrote more. Hope you're happy my dear ~smiles~)**, Azalea **and **tulzdavampslayer**(Muggle Music is over! ~happy dance~ Sorry. Glad you think it's smash!)**.****

Thanks again!  I love to hear from you guys, so in other words: please review!


	3. A Stalking We Will Go

Title: Never Been Kissed: A Ghost's Tale

Author: Tiny Q

E-Mail: one_legged_lesbian_seagull@hotmail.com

A/N:  Sorry this took rather long.  But oh well.  Hopefully this one's a bit more humorous than the last chapter, which I think was downright dull.  Bah on unhumorness.  No signing in this chapter, I promise!  Though I can't say the same for others...

Disclaimer: I own nothing!  Not even my sanity!  (I sold that for $4.99 last year)  In other words: you sue, you get nothing.  Nothing I tell you!  Mwa ha ha ha!

**Never Been Kissed: A Ghost's Tale******

**Chapter 3**

**A Stalking We Will Go**

~*~

            Ginny floated away from a room she had never been anywhere remotely near, even after her whole day of exploring.  Supposedly only the ghosts knew of it, and now she did too being one of them.  She had just spent the entire night talking to what seemed like every ghostly resident of Hogwarts.  There were ghosts she had never even seen or heard of before now all gathered in the relatively large room.  And they had all seemed anxious to meet her and speak with her.  She suspected it was because she was the newest ghost since Moaning Myrtle, who most simply ignored.  

            And speak with her they did.  She heard story after story of how they had all died, varying from war and brutal battle to choking on a peanut.  And they all seemed to have a reason to be where they were.  Vengeance seemed to be the most frequent reason, but there were also a few who simply did not want to leave just yet, and one who was simply too stupid to realize she was supposed to die.  Ginny hoped to forget her as soon as possible, for she was insufferably dense.  Yet after all those stories, when it came time for Ginny to tell her own tale of death she found she had none.  She still couldn't remember how she died or why she was a ghost at all.

            "You will understand in time," one ghost had said.  "Everything will become clear in time.  And it's not like you don't have that!"

            "There is a reason for everything in the afterlife," another had assured her.  Though she didn't trust the second's advice as much as the first for the ghost had been convinced that when he was alive his soup could talk to him.  Supposedly there was a reason for that as well, but Ginny by that time had begun to tune him out.  

            No amount of asking why she couldn't remember seemed to help either.  From almost every floating being she asked she received the same result.  She was beginning to suspect that ghosts were very stubborn.  She was also beginning to wonder if in a bit of time if she would become like them.  Her mother always complained she had been extremely stubborn; would this attitude soon be amplified?  

            'I hope not,' she thought drearily, drifting down the halls at random.  She didn't really care where she was going, being more interested in reviewing what had happened in her mind.

            Realizing that she wouldn't get far with her line of questioning, Ginny turned to asking questions she figured might help her in her new after life.  She confirmed quite quickly that ghosts do not require sleep.  Well with the exception of Sir Minkoff who was rarely ever awake.  They say he loved sleep so much when he was alive that when he died he simply did not wan to give it up.  He awoke every now and then just to catch up on the last month or so of news then went right back to sleep.  They had wafted him into the room that night, but he did not awake to meet her.  Not that she minded.  There had been more than enough ghosts to meet as it was.

            Ginny had also confirmed that ghosts were incapable of eating, much to her growing dismay.  Though she couldn't actually feel hunger, she knew she would begin to miss the taste of food soon, no matter how foul or horrible it tasted.  Perhaps even dirt would taste better than nothing after a time.  Some of the older ghosts seemed to think so anyway.

            After a few more questions she found out that some ghosts liked furniture where they resided while others did not.  Some of the ghosts claimed they enjoyed haunting people while others that were present tended to stay away from the residents of the school all together.  That was probably she had never some of them before.  They claimed she would realize which was best for her as she got more familiar her semitransparent body.  

            But for some reason Ginny got the feeling that everyone of the ghosts who had been present had been hiding something.  That they were making the afterlife seem much more splendid than it actually was.  But the more she thought about it the more preposterous it sounded.  Being dead wasn't some sort of cult that you just joined.  You couldn't be converted to their ranks simply because you could now see through your own body.  

            'I'll just have to keep an eye on them,' she told herself in her mind.  'If they try anything I go straight to the headmaster.'  Even this sounded stupid though.  What would they try to do?  And if they were trying to do something to her, what could Dumbledore do about it any way?

            Turning a corner she saw a large window before her, a crack of sunlight breaking through the over cast sky.  It reminded her of the Burrow.  Ginny suddenly felt a sharp pang of homesickness.  She floated quickly by, hoping to get away from the sight, but it only drew her deeper into her memories as she began to once again drift through the halls.  Her mother, after getting over the initial shock of her death, had insisted that Ginny come home and stay with her family.  Yet Ginny herself had insisted on staying at Hogwarts, she wanted to finish school.  'And I will,' she reassured herself once more.  She didn't know why she felt the need to reassure herself and she found herself doing it more and more often than when she had first decided on the plan.  Her mother had claimed she would support whatever Ginny felt the need to do, and she was going to do it.

            "Ginny?" she heard someone call her.  Looking about she spotted a crop of brown, wavy hair.

            "Hey Hermione," she said, looking about.  It seemed she had drifted herself right into the library.  She suppressed a shudder at the daft look she must have had on her face as she had drifted about the school.  "What are you doing here so early?"  She really didn't have to ask, but it was more of habit than necessity.

            "I'm searching for something," the older girl replied, seated at a table covered with books.  Ginny couldn't even see the table top there were so many.  

            "Oh," she replied, pulling out a chair across from Hermione, and floating down into it.  Yet once again, she found herself going right through the chair.  She let out a small yelp of surprise.

            Hermione quickly stood, looking with concern on the dead girl.  "Ginny?" she asked with worry.  "Are you alright?"

            "Peachy," Ginny muttered, rising once more to hover over the seat.  "Just haven't gotten used to this not being all here bit."

            Hermione looked at her for a moment longer, seeming to debate something in her head, before retaking her own seat.  She reached out for a book and began to flip pages in what seemed to be an idle way.  Ginny found herself watching the girl across from her, realizing just how serious she could look when she wanted.  

            "You should go talk to your brother," Hermione said suddenly, after a few moments of silence.  "He's been so odd lately."

            "He has?" Ginny asked in surprise.  She hadn't really been around her brother too much lately.  She actually thought he was trying to avoid her.  She had tried to tell herself she was being ridiculous, but the feeling still persisted in the back of her mind.  Perhaps her thought has had been well founded after all.

            Hermione nodded.  "He's actually driving Harry and I crazy," she added, still flipping through her book.  "All snappy and the likes."

            "Oh," was all Ginny could manage.  She knew her brother wasn't happy about her death.  She had seen it in the way he had stood at her funeral.  Snappiness was just his way of showing his discontent.  His way of trying to solve his own issues.  But she also knew he plainly sucked at it.  "I'll talk to him some time today."

            "Thanks," Hermione sighed.  "He needs it."  Ginny once again stared at the girl before her.  She had gone out with her brother for about a year and a half and Ginny had thought the two of them were perfect for each other.  But they always fought.  It was rather scary the amount of rows the two would have in a week.  So honestly Ginny had not been too surprised that they had decided to break it off and just be friends.  Yet she had this feeling deep in her heart that they would try again some day when they were more mature and more capable of accepting one another.  She just hoped for both their sakes that it was sooner rather than twenty years down the road.

            "So what are you looking for anyway?" Ginny asked, trying to keep the silence from lasting too long.

            "This," she replied, holding up a book.  It was an old and rather musty looking volume that probably hadn't been looked at for fifty years or more.  

            "What is it?" Ginny asked, looking curiously from the book to the bookworm's satisfied face.

            Silently she passed the book to her, seeming careful not to touch the blue mist she was now made of.  Ginny ignored this and looked down at the title of the book.

            "'The Inner Workings of a Ghost' by Stockwell Tingles?" Ginny asked incredulously.  "Hermione, what is this?"

            "Well I remembered reading the title a few years ago," she said, turning slightly red as the semitransparent redhead looked at her.  "And I thought that you probably don't have much of an idea what's going to happen, or what already has happened.  So I figured if I could find it, it might be of some use for you."  She glanced down at the other titles.  "Then I thought there might be other books but I have yet to find any, but I will keep at it."

            Ginny stared at her, feeling a huge sense of warmth pass through her.  Someone cared enough for her to search the entire library to help her?  For by the pile of books Hermione had going she must have been in here for quite some time already.  And it was her holiday.

            Before she could voice this wonderful feeling however, someone else's voice interrupted her.

            "So this is what the dead do for fun," a cold and drawling voice sliced through the air behind her.  They both turned to see Draco Malfoy come out from behind a large bookshelf.  "That explains a lot about you, Granger," he sneered.

            Ginny and Hermione both glared at him.  It seemed the boy was back to his old self, in comparison to the night before.  The peaceful face she had witnessed as he had slept was gone, replaced by his usual sneer.  She frowned, fighting off a feeling of disappointment.  'He's a Malfoy,' she said to herself sharply.  'M-A-L-F-O-Y.  No good.' 

            "So then what is your impeccable reason to be here, Malfoy?" Hermione said smoothly, holding her head high as she often did lately when confronted.  To Ginny it seemed the older girl was becoming much more comfortable with herself.

            "It's none of your bloody business, Mudblood," he snarled, his face suddenly contorting.  Ginny frowned further.  Something was definitely up with the boy.  He hadn't called anyone a "mudblood" in over a year.  But it seemed that something was different about him now and Ginny was noticing it.  Perhaps it was because she was dead and she had more time to observe things than she had when she was alive.  But she didn't really like this idea because why would she want to notice a Malfoy?  'Malfoy's are bad,' she told her mind.  'Bad, bad, bad.'

            "He's probably here to find some spell that will help him run faster," Ginny said offhandedly to the girl across from her.  She looked at the blond to see something pass before his eyes.  'BAD!' her mind screamed at him, regardless of the almost hurt look that had passed.  'But then' she reasoned to herself, 'why would a _Malfoy_ look hurt?'  

            "Ginny," Hermione said sharply, frowning in her know-it-all manner.  Obviously the girl had heard about Malfoy's week long stay in the hospital wing.  But then Ginny realized that she definitely would have for she had been in there for a time herself.  "That was uncalled for."  Ginny stared at the girl before her.  Usually she ignored her superior tone, having dealt with it most of her school life.  But for some reason it irked her today.  A sense of irritation washed over Ginny yet she shoved it down.  Hermione was her friend.  And she needed her friends.  Didn't she?  

            "I did not run away," he growled after a moment.  Ginny looked at him.

            "That's not what it looked like to me," she sneered.  Perhaps if she insulted him enough the feeling that she needed to notice him would go away.  "You only stopped to throw a rock at me," she paused.  "Well two rocks as I remember it."

            "What is with you and the bloody rocks?" he suddenly yelled at her.  Ginny's eyes widened.  "Every time I am around you all you can do is talk about rocks!  It's maddening!"  With that the Slytherin turned and walked swiftly away and out of sight.

            "I don't always talk about rocks," she sputtered defensively to Hermione.  But then she realized that she did.  'Rocks,' she thought.  'Why rocks?  What's so special about a rock?'  She accepted the fact that she had caught it, but why the apparent obsession?

            Hermione remained silent and simply stared at her for a moment.  Ginny felt as though the girl was looking right through her.  'Which,' she realized, 'she can'.  A sense of remorse and depression overcame her then and she let her head drop to the table.  Once again she passed through.  "Don't look at me like that, Hermione," she muttered, her voice muffled by the wood encasing her head.  "I don't think I can bare it."

            "Ginny," the other girl said suddenly.  "I know that you are going through something."  She paused.  "Well I suppose something is an understatement."  She paused once more.  "And I sincerely hope you get through this.  You are too good a person to crumble.  It's not fair that this has happen to you, but maybe there's a reason.  I just hope you figure it out before it's too late."

            "You sound like that ghost," she replied glumly, not bothering to lift her head from the table.  "And he said that his soup talked to him."  She suddenly got an odd mental image of Hermione holding a conversation with her food.  "_You_ don't have conversations with soup, do you Hermione?"

            "What?" the older girl asked in confusion.  "Of course not.  There would be no point.  It doesn't talk back."

            "But what if it did?"

            "Then I suppose I might respond."

            Ginny lifted her head, a grin slowly spreading across her lips.

            "Now that's the Ginny I like to see," Hermione said with a smile, and Ginny felt the same expression spreading across her face as well.  "Come," she said suddenly, rising to her feet.  "Let's go take this book out for you before Madam Pince wanders off somewhere."

~*~

            Draco Malfoy left the library as quickly as he could, heading down the hall to the left.  He wasn't sure where he was going.  He didn't care.   He just felt like walking.  Perhaps if he walked far enough and long enough everything would fall away from him.

            'What does that Weasley know,' he thought darkly.  'She'd _dead.'  He paused.  A pleasantly malicious thought passed through his mind: 'Obviously she didn't run fast enough.'  With this sadistic yet slightly comforting thought in mind, he continued to walk aimlessly about, a grin pulling on his lips.  _

            His feet echoed hollowly down the hall and he couldn't help but notice how quiet and alone they sounded.  He was so used to having Crabbe and Goyle thundering behind him, that it just didn't sound right to him.  He glanced behind despite himself.  'They're not there,' he scolded.  'They never will be again.'

            With this final thought Draco no longer wanted to walk down the halls where even his foot steps reminded him of his two lost friends.  So traveling as quickly as he could without seeming suspicious or down right daft, he made for the Entrance Hall.  There were a few people scattered about the large hall and he could have sworn he heard whispering.  And he had a sinking suspicion that the words were about him.

            'Great,' he thought bitterly.  'Now I'm becoming paranoid.'  He paused.  'Never mind, I think I was already.'  Despite his suspicions he sent the nastiest sneer he could muster in the directions of the whisperers.  The voices stopped.  So he had been right.

            Not sure if he should feel proud for figuring out the master plot or worried that people were talking about him, Draco pushed the doors that led outside open.  It was a rather nice day out.  There was no wind and no sun.  Overcast and dreary were the words some would have used to describe the weather.  Others would have claimed that it was utterly depressing.  Draco thought it was splendid.  He enjoyed when weather matched his mood.  It made him feel powerful.

            The school grounds still bore the wounds of the battle from but weeks before.  The professors had been struggling to get them back to their original state but it was hard.  There had been so much damage from various causes that that the grounds still resembled a battle zone rather than a school zone.  'But it had been a battle zone,' Draco reminded himself as he looked over the half burnt trees and large trenches caused by excessive amounts of magic.

            Ignoring the brutalized surroundings, Draco headed towards the Lake.  Crabbe and Goyle had hated the lake, and he had a feeling he would miss their presence less there.  As he approached the calm waters he felt his mind begin to reflect them.  All his worries seemed to slip away like water through cupped hands too far apart.

            It was all so odd to him.  Nothing really seemed to be making sense.  He just kept thinking that he would wake up at any moment in his bed and keep on living his real life.  But as the days were passing by and he got further and further along with his life he realized that the chances of this happening were slim to none.

            'So now what do I do?' he asked himself, spotting a rock that had sitting potential but kept on walking.  He didn't feel like sitting.  It was like resigning to his problems.  If he could walk away from them at a walking pace, he would.  Why give them the opportunity to catch up with him?  'I can't very well snap my fingers and make everything go away.'

            He pondered this for a moment.  No, that defiantly could not happen.  Even Voldemort did not posses that type of power.  It seemed he was stuck in the preset time with the ditz patrol of Slytherin trying to be his "friend", an antisocial roommatewho he couldn't stand and the ghost of his enemy's sister trying to haunting him.  'It would almost be funny if it wasn't me,' he thought darkly and looked around.

            There were more people outside than he had expected.  A few people even passed him and he caught snippets of conversations like: "You can't do that, it would tickle" or "Cheese is mold you know.  Every time you eat cheese you're eating tiny little..."  While most of the conversations had seemed mundane, if not a little odd, he didn't think he would forget the last one any time soon: "You can't kill him yet!  His liver needs to fresh before he comes!"  Draco had a suspicion he would never look at Hufflepuffs in the same light again.  He glanced backwards, reassuring himself that the three fourth years were as far away from his as possible. 

            Yet this action drew his attention to something else.  Or rather, someone else.

            'Parkinson,' he thought with a slight amount of surprise and a touch larger amount of annoyance.  The blond girl seemed to be on her own and he idly wondered where the rest of her annoyingly loud gang had gotten to.  Perhaps Hogwart's apparent cannibals had gotten to them.  Ignoring this thought, he began to notice that perhaps the girl was trying to follow him.  She seemed to be trying to keep a distance from him, but was holding the same, quick pace he was.  And he knew the girl did not much care for exercise if she could avoid it.  Speed walking include.

            'You're being paranoid' he thought darkly.  Yet as the girl realized he was looking at her she automatically stopped, seeming to pick something up off the ground.  'Or not.

            He turned back around, walking with his face forward.  'Perhaps if I ignore her she'll go away.'  Yet as he increased his pace he began to think that perhaps what he himself did wouldn't matter as something struck his head.  Slightly startled, Draco looked up towards the sky.  Another something landed in his eye.

            "Rain?" he asked himself under his breath.  

            Sure enough, within a few minutes, the ground around him was being pelted with water.  He stood there for a moment, not quite sure if he believed what was happening.  It was rather early for rain, especially rain as hard as this.  As he stood there, he began to get wet at an increasingly fast rate.  The wind began to blow against him, tossing his longish blond hair about, despite it's dampness.  The water beside him in the lake began to crash against the shore and he was beginning to get the feeling that perhaps he should go in.

            Turning around to retrace his steps, he saw that Pansy was already making a mad dash for the school.  'Wouldn't want to mess up our lovely hair, now would we?' he thought with a smirk and began to take his time to walk back.  He hadn't realized just how far he had traveled, but he didn't really care, the rain against his skin felt more real than anything had in a while.  

            As it fell ever harder against him he began to smile slightly, the rain gracing his lips, under the hair that was now limply hanging in his face despite the wind.  He was by now soaked to the bone and it didn't matter.  It felt good and if he got sick and died he didn't think he would really care.  He didn't think anyone else would either.  Yet this did not make his as upset as it should have, it just made his smile spread further.  

            The school got ever closer and soon he found himself lazily opening the main doors and walking through.  His clothes and body were soaking wet, causing water to drip off him and splatter on the floor.  He stood still for a moment after the doors had closed enjoying the feeling his fingers and wet toes made as they warmed up.  Grinning slightly he finally forced himself to move towards the dungeons.  

            'I wonder how long this will last,' he thought idly, referring to this amazingly calm feeling that had come over him.  He felt that what ever happened in his life next he would simply face it and not really care.  If he didn't care if he died, what could life really throw at him?  

            "You know," a voice said lazily from behind him.  "Flich isn't going to like the mess you're making."

            Draco stopped in his tracks and turned about to see the dead Weasley girl floating about two feet off the ground before him.  'Not too long,' he thought and then sneered up at her.  

            "What would you like me to do?" he demanded.  "It's raining outside.  When it rains you get wet."

            "Oh I know that," the girl replied, grinning slightly at him.  "But he won't.  Trust me, I know all too well."

            "Whatever," he sneered at her.  What did he care if she had gotten into trouble with Filch before?  He wasn't about to stand about and experience it.  He turned on his heel and walked away.  

            "Where are you going?" the girl demanded.  A brush of cold air old him that she was moving along with him.  The chill that passed through him seemed to be amplified by his drenched state.  He didn't show it though.  

            "What he can't see can't hurt him," Draco replied, not pausing in his movements.  "If he doesn't see me, I can't get in trouble."  It seemed logical to him.

            "Typical Slytherin," Weasley sneered.  He glared around at her.  She put her hands up in a swirl of blue mist.  "Hey, don't look at me," she said defensively.  "It's a fantastic plan, really.  Only there's one flaw."  He stared at her, waiting for elaboration.  "You're leaving a trail.  He's not stupid you know.  He can follow a great bloody trail of water."

            Draco glanced behind himself to see that she was right: there was quite a bit of water behind him.  Quite a bit of water that led right back to him.  Without a word, he pulled out his wand and made the water on the floor go away.  

            "Happy?" he sneered, and kept walking.

            "Why don't you make yourself dry as well?" she asked, still following him.  "You'll get phenomena or something like that."

            "I don't want to," he said, not turning around.  "I don't really care."  Perhaps if he didn't look at her she would go away.  It used to work with Crabbe and Goyle sometimes.  Not very often though.

            "What ever," she said, probably shrugging.  "But I can't wait until you die and I can say I told you so."

            He stopped once more, before the stairs that lead down to the Slytherin Common Room.  "Is there any particular reason that you are following me, Weasley?" he demanded.  "Other than stupidity that is."

            "No," she said, grinning.  Draco felt his annoyance rise.  "But remember I did promise to haunt you until the day you die.  So I guess I am just making up for the lost time in the past week."

            "Lucky me," he said bitterly.  Then turning once more he began to descend down the stairs.  

            "Don't turn your back on me," she suddenly growled.

            "I already have," he snapped, continuing to walk down the stairs.

              Another gust of wind told him she was moving once again.  Sure enough she was floating before him a moment later.  

            "I'm trying to haunt you and you will be haunted," she stared at him, looking suddenly stubborn.  It was a look he had seen her wear many times around her brothers when she had still been alive.  Though as to how he had managed to see it so often he had no idea.  No matter it still annoyed him.  

            "And besides," she added.  "It's not very nice to turn your back on people.  In fact, it's down right rude.

            Draco glared up at her, coming to a stop, his annoyance seeming to get the better of him.  "I'd hate to inform you of this, Weasel," he sneered, suddenly feeling the urge to be angry.  "But you are no longer a person."  He paused.  "You're no longer alive.  You're dead.  Thus ending any responsibility on my part to be polite to you."

            He paused, slightly startled at how harsh his words had sounded.  The girl before him seemed in a similar state for it took a moment for her to react.

            "You are the most," she began, "terrible, horrible creature I have _ever_ met!" she shrieked, her voice shrill and loud.  Draco took a step back as the ghost rose into the air, seeming to increase in size.  He never realized just how tall she was.  "You should have been the one to open that bloody chamber, Malfoy!  You and Tom would have made a great pair!"  With at she flung the book that had apparently been in her hands, at him.  

            He ducked just in time before the object could strike him.  Instead it hit the step behind him and began to plunk its way down the stairs.  He stared at it knowing that if Ms. Pince had been there he would have been deader than Weasley.  The ghost didn't seem to care though for she flew by him, seeming to take great care in passing right through him.  The chill he felt seemed far worse than any cold he had ever felt in all his memory.  He couldn't help but give off a terrible shudder.  Then something occurred to him.

            "Who's Tom?" he called after her quickly retreating form.  She didn't respond verbally, only giving his a ghostly middle finger.  He stared after her, wondering if a dead girl's gesture of that kind actually counted.  Coming back to the fact that he was standing on a set of stairs, shivering as though death were upon him, Draco turned and began to go down the steps once more.  When he got to the bottom he saw that the book was lying face up, about midway through the large collection of pages.  

            He bent down and to pick it up, scanning the words as he went.

            _Poltergeists are temperamental entities.  They seem to act on pure emotion, most of which is tainted with mischievous impulses.  This is one of the most curious conditions of this species of ghost.  While all ghosts dwell on one subject, often to an obsessive extent, poltergeist's dwellings seem to be far more meddlesome and malicious than those of ordinary ghosts.  It seems that these tendencies develop within the first few weeks of their initial after life.  The mind to the ghost seems to_

            The page ended, and Draco, frowning, turned the page and continued to read.  

            _Bend and warp around a very select few ideas.  It has been known as well that instead of an idea, the ghost's mind will warp around a particular emotion, though this is not as common as a simple idea.  There have even been a few cases were the mind has warped in such a queer way that both emotions and ideas remain in the mind.  This is the most hazardous situation for if the ghost is set off it will often become violent.  _

_            Yet, we must keep in mind that the ghost it self has very little to do with the original individual before death.  The mind often warps so badly that there is very little of the person left within the twisted spirit.  Yet it is hard to realize this when the person looks like the one you know yet acts in a completely rash manner.  A good example of this was back in_

            Draco stopped reading, not sure if he was willing to believe what he was reading or not.  Would Weasley's mind warp as well?  And if so, would her soon to be warped mind include him in there?  Some twisted obligation to truly haunt him until the day he died?  

            Closing the book, he continued on his way to his Common Room.  There was a feeling at the bottom of his stomach that that was exactly what was going to happen.

~*~

A/N: And once again I have managed to weasel Riddle into my story.  ~sigh~  I was going to continue with this, but I decided to leave that to the next chapter.  Most of the beginning is written up, but I don't know when it will actually come.  Reading the 5th book and doing all those pesky exams will take up quite a bit of time.  ~sob~  Oh well, just keep an eye out, it will show up eventually.  Hopefully brining with it a bit more D/G...

Many thanks to: **Darcel****, Gusha, Lallie(I didn't tell you because you are not worthy. JK)**, Katie Bell, jlo's-lil-baby, keita, karen, tulzdavampslayer**(And I know how difficult that can be for you. JK)**, Spider Fairyz** and ****Laiannon-fae-elf**.********


	4. Never Piss Off a Poltergeist

Title: Never Been Kissed: A Ghost's Tale

Author: Tiny Q

E-Mail: one_legged_lesbian_seagull@hotmail.com

A/N:  Wow.  This took a long time, didn't it??  Well, sorry about that.  But I sort of lost interest for a while.  Then I kicked myself and screamed a bit at myself and got to work on this chapter.  ~grin~  But yes.  I read the fifth book and I know that a lot of stuff is wrong now, but I am going to continue it as it is.  Why?  Because I am too lazy to go back and rewrite the bloody thing, that's why!  Bah.  

Disclaimer:  I own nothing but the plot.  And I definitely don't own that wonderful song by the Beatles.  ~begins to sing~  Eleanor Rigby- Ok!  I'll just let you read, shall I??

**Never Been Kissed: A Ghost's Tale******

**Chapter 4**

**Never Piss Off a Poltergeist**

~*~

            "Ron, wake up," Ginny said as quietly as she could, though she wasn't exactly sure as to why.  Her brother was the only one in the dorm, seeming to have declared that he needed more sleep than the rest of his dorm mates.  So here she was, trying to wake him up. 

            She had pulled back the hangings just enough so that she could comfortably fit in between them without having to touch them.  She was also floating far enough back from her brother so as not to startle him if he moved slightly and brushed against her.  She knew it wasn't the best feeling for the living to touch a ghost.  And it would be even worse to wake up to it.

            "Ron," she said again, more loudly this time.  The boy had yet to stir.  "Come on, wake up you lazy bum.  It's only ten o'clock."

            He finally grumbled, and Ginny leant forward a touch more, eager to see if he was actually awake or just grumbling in his sleep, as he had a bad habit of doing.  His large hands moved then and he pulled the covers closer to his chin, looking more like a child than a seventeen year old boy.  It made Ginny feel very protective all of a sudden, though as to why was beyond her.  She just had the feeling that she had to make him feel better.  Perhaps it was just some maternal instinct, but it seemed too strong to be just that.  She shuddered slightly at the possible implications but shoved them away to the back of her mind when Ron slowly opened his eyes.

            "Ginny," he sighed upon seeing her.  She smiled at him slightly.  'Well, he still remembers who I am,' she thought.  "I've been having the most terrible dream that you died and became a ghost," he continued to grumble.  "And you kept tormenting Malfoy.  Not that that would be a bad thing, the tormenting part I mean.  But the dead part was bad." 

            He then reached out and tried to hug her, but his arms passed right through her before she could get far enough back.  Both of the Weasley children's eye widened in surprise.  Then the older one shuddered.

            "It's not a dream, is it?" he asked weakly, looking at his shaking hands.  

            Ginny was staring at her own body.  It seemed to be swirling about, bringing itself back to its usual non-corporeal state.  

            "No," she said softly.  "It isn't Ron.  I am dead."

            He stared at her, his face a mask of confusion and hurt.  Ginny felt the feeling grow even stronger.  She was causing her brother to feel this way.  She was making him become so upset.  So distraught.  

            "I thought it was just a dream," he whispered.  "I hoped so much that it was just a dream."  He stopped, retracting his arms back to himself.  "Why did you have to die, Ginny?"

            Ginny stared at him, floating above the ground as she suddenly wished now more than ever that she couldn't.  

            "I don't know," she said honestly.  "I just don't know, Ron."

            "Can't you even tell me _who killed you?" he asked, looking up and staring at her once more.  "__How you died?"_

            "What does it matter?" she asked miserably, hunching her see-through shoulders slightly.  "I'm dead now.  There's no real point in knowing the stimulus."

            "Yes there is!" Ron said his voice suddenly forceful.  "It does matter.  How will we ever make who ever it was pay?  How will we ever be able to let you rest in piece?!"

            "I don't know!" she said sharply back, anger and frustration suddenly rising in her chest.  "I don't know how I died.  I don't know who killed me.  All I remember about it is that I woke up and saw Malfoy staring at me."  She let out a frustrated sigh, feeling blue misty tears struggling to break free of her eyes.  "I told you all that before.  I told you all that but you don't listen."

            Ron remained silent for a time, dropping his eyes from her.  It wasn't until Ginny felt she was going to begin bawling that he spoke once more: "I'm sorry Gin," he said softly, looking up at her with teary eyes of his own.  "I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you.  That I let you go off and die all alone.  I'm sorry that I couldn't save you."

            Ginny stared at him, the tears suddenly breaking lose and wreaking havoc on her transparent face.  "Don't be like this Ron," she said with a chocked voice.  "You can't blame yourself for my own stupidity.  There was nothing you could have done.  Maybe you would be dead now too if you had been with me.  Who knows?"  She sniffed.  "But there is no point breaking yourself up about it like you are.  Please don't do it.  Live your life Ron.  Live it and don't mourn for the dead.  Cause I'm still here.  And it's kind of fun to go through walls and stuff.  Don't look at me like that.  It is.  I could pull off stuff that Fred and George could only dream of doing, and that's saying something."  Ron snorted slightly at this, smiling slightly at her through his broken up face.  

            "Don't waste your life, brother," Ginny sniffed once more.  "Take it from the dead.  Life is too precious to waste.  Live it for me."

            "I'm sorry Gin," Ron repeated, sniffling as well, yet seeming to try and pull himself together.  "I'm still so sorry no matter what you say.  But I will try to do what you say.  You're right."  

            She smiled sadly at him, wanting so much to reach out and smooth down his hair.  But she couldn't.  It would just upset him further.  And that was the last thing that she wanted.  She didn't want to hurt her brother.  To be the reason he became nothing in life.

            "You know," Ron said suddenly, and Ginny turned to look at him questioningly.  "I think I might know what you need to figure out to, well, you know, pass on."  Ginny waited for him to continue, holding an unnecessary breath.  Not that she needed to breathe, but it was more out of mortal habit.  "Maybe you need to figure out who killed you.  To find out how you died.  Maybe it's your unfinished business."  

            Ginny stared at him.  "You might be right," she said with surprise.  "I don't remember that but I remember everything else.  And all the other ghosts know how they died or who killed them.  Maybe that's all I need to figure out."  She paused.  "But I bet I have to do it on my own though."

            "But you won't find the answer without saying goodbye though, right?" her brother asked, giving a large sniff out of his large nose.

            "Get a Kleenex," Ginny said in a mock nasty tone, suddenly feeling a lot better than she had all day.  "And yes Ron, I won't leave without saying goodbye."

            Ron smiled at her.  "Good," he said firmly, seeming to be assured by this statement.  "Then get out of here so I can sleep.  I really am tired."

            "Of course you are," Ginny chided, then turned away, closing the drawings as she went.  "Goodnight, Ron," she called, drifting off towards the door.

            "Goodnight," he called back.

            Ginny then let herself drift down through the floor of the staircase, regardless of who she went through in the process.  Once in the Common Room she winked at Hermione then drifted out, passing directly through the portrait of the Fat Lady.  Who was none too pleased by her sudden cold chills.  

            She had her mind set now.  She was going to return to her room, snuggle up on the couch as best she could, without passing through it of course, then read her book.  Maybe it would have something in it to help her figure out how to remember how she died.  She wasn't exactly sure if she wanted to know just yet.  Perhaps Hermione had been right in saying that she died for a reason.  But if that was the case, she surely wouldn't be able to figure it out until it was time for her to pass on.  

            She didn't bother opening her door; she just passed right through it.  She looked around the now furnished room in search of her book.  But it was no where to be found.  She frowned.  "Where could I have put it?" she asked herself, staring at her room, still vacant of her book.  "I couldn't have-" she stopped, something suddenly occurring to her.

            Without thinking, she dropped through the floor into the dorm room of the seventh year Slytherins.  She saw that the bed on the far end contained one sleeping occupant, happily snoring away.

            "What is with this school and people going to bed early?" she muttered darkly, frowning at the sleeping boy.

            "Weasley?" she heard Malfoy suddenly gasp from behind her.  

            "But apparently the ones you want to be asleep are insomniacs," she said darkly, staring at the sleeping Slytherin with a blank look.  

            "How the hell did you get in here?" the boy behind her demanded, and Ginny couldn't help but sneer.

            "Well as you gave mentioned before, Malfoy," she snarled, turning around slowly.  "I'm dead.  Thus I can pass through walls or rather floors in this case.  Or did you forget already?"

            She stared at him expectantly, only then realizing that was propped up on the bed, pillows pilled behind his head, with no shirt on.  She frowned.  'Please tell me the git doesn't sleep in the nude,' she thought with slight desperation.  'Because that would just be sick.'  It took her a moment later to realize that he was reading a book.  Her book.

            "What do you want?" he demanded, drawing her attention to his face and rather his shirtless top and book.  His eyes were narrowed dangerously, and she couldn't help but grin at him.

            "I want my book back," she said simply, waving a hand in it's general direction, causing mist to swirl about. 

            "Oh," he said simply, narrowing his right eye in the slightest way.  "You mean the one you threw at me."

            "I'd like to think of it as tossing with a touch of force," she offered with a shrug.  More mist swirled around her.  

            "You're getting that shit all over my room," Malfoy sneered, looking pointedly at her misty entrails.  "I wouldn't be surprised if it was toxic or something."

            "Then perhaps I shouldn't' leave after all," Ginny said cheerfully, drifting towards him and gently floating down to rest on his bed.  "Wouldn't want to deprive to you of the fumes."  She fanned her hands towards him.  

            "Stop it," he hissed, using the book in his hands to fan it back at her.  The wave of air hit her and Ginny felt part of herself moving away from her.  It was the most peculiar sensation, but she didn't say anything.  "If you want to poison anyone, get Zambini over there."  He motioned with his head towards the only other occupant of the room.

            "Now why would I want to do that?" Ginny asked innocently, looking over at the boy.  She had never really paid him much attention when she was alive, but now she realized that he wasn't too bad looking.  Not that it really mattered anymore.  "It surely wouldn't be a favor to you so you could have less competition, would it?"

            "I don't have competition," he sneered, glaring at her.  "Not that it matters to you anymore.  You're going to carry on for the rest of your existence as a single and pathetic Weasley."

            Ginny glared at him.  She hadn't really thought of it that way.  Well, she had thought along those lines but never to that degree.  She had never really been the one all the boys were after.  In fact, she had the feeling that they had avoided her at all costs.  She mainly credited it towards her brothers.  But now she would never be able to get someone, even if her brothers no longer threatened them with bodily harm, or perhaps even a gruesome death.

            "Why do you have to be like that?" Ginny growled.  "Always trying to put me down."  Then something occurred to her.  "And you're wrong.  I could still have a love life in a sense.  I am a poltergeist."  She raised her eyebrows as if to make her point.  Malfoy got a totally disturbed look on his face which caused Ginny to grin evilly.  "What?" she asked innocently.  "Does the thought of having sex with a ghost gross you out?"

            "It does more than gross me out," he spat.  "Not only is it disgusting, it's wrong in so many ways.  Not to mention that it's necrophilism."  He stared at the green sheets then, seeming to think, his face getting a more and more disgusted look as time went on.  Then he shuddered.  "No.  It's just wrong."

            Ginny shrugged, sending more mist swirling.  "What ever you say, Malfoy," she sighed, still grinning slightly.  Who would have thought that she could freak out a Malfoy with a conversation like that?  'Now imagine if I actually try to do something, right here in his bed,' she thought impishly, but decided against it, figuring the boy would scream bloody murder.  'Though it would be amusing...'

            They sat in silence for a moment then Ginny turned to face him.  "Can I have my book back now?" she asked, pointing at the book he had clutched in his hands.  He looked down at it as though he had forgotten it was there.

            He frowned at her for a moment then silently held it out to her.  "I was finished the parts I wanted to read anyway," he drawled.  

            Ginny frowned at the book.  It was rather large by her standards and would probably take a good week or two to read.  But he had finished it already.

            "Oh," she sneered slightly.  "You're one of those freakishly fast readers then."  
            "I suppose you can say that," he sneered back.  "Jealous Weasley?"

            "Of you, never," she replied with an uncaring tone, taking the book from him, making sure that her hand brushed his own.  She smirked at him as he shivered involuntarily.  She then rose off the bed and made for the ceiling.

            "You know it's rather sad," Malfoy called after her, causing her to stop her ascent and look down on him.  "That you have to find out about yourself through a book."

            "How else would you like me to figure out what I am exactly?" she snarled, lowering herself slowly to the ground once more.

            "Why not ask that git Peeves," Malfoy offered, looking at her with a slightly smug expression.  It instantly reminded her of the Draco Malfoy who had ruled the school back in her first year.  The proud and arrogant one who thought nothing was ever his fault, that nothing was ever his responsibility as long as his father was there.  It was almost startling how different that one was from the one she saw before her nowadays.  The one that seemed depressed and unsound.  

            "He doesn't like me," she said truthfully, though as to why she wasn't quite sure.  Perhaps it was the revelation she had had moments before.  The revelation of just how broken Malfoy was now.  But then, what would Malfoy care if she had problems making nice with the other poltergeists?

            "I wonder why?" the blond drawled, confirming her suspicions.  She sneered at him.  "Just take your stupid book and go.  I want to sleep yet tonight."

            "Fine," Ginny snapped, clutching her book to her semitransparent person.  "Goodnight."

            With that she flew up towards the ceiling, passing through the floor and into her own room.  She looked down at her hands to her book only to realize it wasn't there.  Dropping down to her knees with a curse, she looked through the floor to the room bellow where her book was lying on the tiled floor.  It must have been quite the sight for Malfoy was looking at her as though she had lost her mind.  

            "Oops," she said simply, drifting back down towards the ground.  She crouched down and scooped up her book with as much dignity as she could muster.  Apparently ghosts could muster a lot.  Yet she could still feel her cheeks burning.  "Guess I'll just take the door then."

            She moved towards it, feeling his eyes on her the whole time. Laughing at her.  With a sudden urge to seek vengeance, she opened the door, inclined her head towards him then slammed the door as hard as she could, relishing the sound his roommate made.

~*~

            "What the fuck is wrong with you Malfoy?!" Blaize Zambini raged from across the room.  "I was sleeping!"

            "Get over your self, Zambini," Draco sneered, shooting daggers in his direction.  He really did not like that kid, regardless if he was the last Slytherin male besides himself.  "It wasn't me."

            "Then who was it?" the dark haired boy snarled, his blue eyes flashing.  "That stupid ghost that keeps following you around?"

            Draco had a sudden urge to throw something at the tussled haired boy.  He was quite disturbed to think that this urge had arisen because he had insulted Weasley.  'No,' he said firmly.  'It's because he's a git.'

            "As a matter of fact," Draco drawled, reaching to close the hangings around his bed.  "It was."  With that he snapped them shut, ignoring the hiss of annoyance the other boy made.

            He didn't know why exactly, but the other boy was driving him up the wall.  Sure, he had never liked him, but his animosity was increasing everyday.  Every time he saw him.  'At least classes haven't started again,' he thought with slight satisfaction.  It would have been terrible if he had to see him everyday.  

            Letting out a hiss of air, Draco reclined back against his pillows and looked up at his canopy, tracing the shadows with his eyes.  Slowly a red headed someone drifted into his mind, mist and all.  'Great' he thought.  'Now I'll be having twisted dreams of her coming onto me or something twisted like that.'  

            He had to admit that the girl was insane and she was only going to get worse it seemed.  He had managed to read most of the book in the time that he had had.  And what he had read had not made him very happy.  In fact it made him down right distraught.  He _was_ going to be haunted till he died.  Or at least until Weasley decided it was time to pass on.  And looking at the rest of the ghost residents in the school, he doubted very much that that would be any time soon.  

            'And all that shit about her love life,' he thought, beginning to feel rather disturbed once more.  'It's just wrong.  I would never, even if she was still alive and she was the last Pureblood on earth.'  Draco shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the image of her leaning towards him, batting her eyes at him.  Yet it didn't go away.  He shook it harder.

            'What would it be like to make love to a ghost,' he mused silently to himself, instantly horrified at what had just crossed through his mind.  'How can I think that?!' he shrieked at himself in his mind.  'That's wrong!  _So wrong!'_

            With that, Draco rolled over, smashing his head into one of his feather pillows and held his breath.  Maybe that would solve all his problems.  Make all his problems go away.  But as the need for air began to pose a problem and his lungs began to scream in protest, Draco realize this would not work.  He would not find solace in a pillow.  But the question was now, where did he find it?  He didn't think there would be another rain storm any time soon.  

            Rolling over, Draco pulled the covers up to his chin, staring into the pitch blackness around him, seeing nothing.  Maybe the darkness would hold the answer with it's seemingly infinite void.  Yet Draco couldn't seem to find any clam in here either.  He only began to feel that maybe someone or something was staring back at him.  

            So closing his eyes in defeat, Draco drifted off into sleep.

            Yet sleep did not grace Draco very long, for he was soon awoken to the sound of chirping birds.  He glared blearily at them, wishing to no end that they would suddenly spontaneously combust and burn into nothing but a pile of ash.  This did not happen, unfortunately, and the blond eventually dragged himself out of bed and got ready for the day.  

            Stifling a yawn he made his way through the vacant Common Room and towards the Great Hall for breakfast.  He didn't see anyone on the way there, and was not to surprised to see that there were only half a dozen students scattered about the place.  All students who were in younger years.  One of them was the student who had talked about the cannibals when he had been on the walk, but he did not want to dwell on that at all.

            Not that he minded the emptiness all that much.  It had actually been a little nice to walk the halls of the school and imagine that he was the only one left in the school.  That no one was around to bother him.  To ignore him.  Or to follow him.  He wasn't sure what was worse anymore.  Whether it was to have no one to be around him all the time or if it was Pansy Parkinson tailing him as she had the day before.  It was with this thought that Draco realized there was a lot more wrong with him than he had initially thought.

            Looking down on his plate of toast and Sunnyside up eggs, he realized that he was no longer hungry.  He pushed his plate to the center of the table where it disappeared from sight.  Glancing about, Draco slowly sat up then walked out of the hall.  He wasn't quite sure where he was going, but as he entered the Entrance Hall he saw too many people that he didn't particularly want to speak to, let alone see.

            The Dream Team was the main group of individuals on Draco's Must Not See list.  He passed them, holding his head high and sneering at them slightly.  The red headed member, the tallest of them all, gave him the finger.  Draco kept walking.  Now he knew there was really something wrong with him.  'How could I not stand up to that?' he wondered in rising despair.  

            The Dream Team must have been thinking along those same lines, for he heard a squawk of laughter then the hushed words of whispers.  Scowling, Draco picked up his pace and headed down a hall.  He didn't care where he was going as long as he could get away from them.  But he knew they wouldn't follow him.  

            "All the lonely people, where do they all come from?  All the lonely people, where do they all belong?" greeted his ears and Draco's already dampened mood got even wetter.  As though a hurricane had just swept past and deposited half the ocean coast on it.  He frowned, rounding a corner.  He already knew who he would see.

            "Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name.  Nobody came.  Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave.  No one was saved," the red headed ghost sang floating from the ceiling upside-down, seeming not to realize her audience.

            "Does the world seem better from that angle?" Draco asked, mentally slapping himself in the head for not saying it with a sneer.  It had simply come out in a slight drawl.  'How could I not sneer at her?'

            "As a matter of fact," Weasley said slowly, not looking at him.  "It does.  Though as to what it would be to you I have no idea."

            Draco narrowed his eyes.  "You were singing again."  And this time it was with a sneer.  'Good,' he thought.  'I'm not totally gone then.'  "And it was Muggle."

            "It's a free world," Weasley said lazily, rolling her eyes to look at him dully through the long hair that was falling down from her head.  "I can sing whenever and whatever I want."

            "Some people might find it offensive," he stated simply, smirking at her slightly.  

            "Someone like you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.  It was rather odd how he could actually see her features when if she had been real he probably could not see through her hair.  Yet it was transparent and he could see her transparent face through it like a slightly frosted panel of glass.

            "Yes," he relied with a shrug.  She glared down on him slightly, yet there was still a dull look in her eyes.  But she didn't respond.  Draco stared up at her for a while, but neither of them spoke.  Then finally he said: "Why do you sing so much, anyways?"

            She looked at him, her face hardening slightly.  It was if she was trying to look through him, to see what he was really like inside.  Draco found it rather ironic since he could see the ceiling through her head.  

            "My father always listened to classic rock music," she finally replied in what Draco took as a truthful voice.  But then really, why would she lie about a thing like that?  "And lately it keeps playing itself in my head when I'm alone and I can't help but sing along with it."  She shrugged slightly at this then laughed a little.  It was a cheery yet depressing sound.  "I don't know why I am telling you this though."  She frowned then.

            Draco looked up at her, then suddenly something clicked into place in his head.  'Music,' he thought, excitement rising in his chest.  'She's also becoming obsessed with music!'  And then thoughts and plans began to rush through his mind.  Plans on how he could convince her to become more obsessed with music than with him.  Plans to get her mind to bend more towards sound than towards him.  'Perhaps I won't be haunted until the day I die.'

            But just as he was thinking this, Weasley flipped around and drifted nearer to the ground towards him.

            "Why are you smirking at me like that, Malfoy?" she said in a low voice by his ear.  He started and looked up at her in slight surprise.  Not that it showed much on his face.  He was still a Malfoy.  "Do you think that it's funny?"

            "Wha- No," he said quickly, not liking her sudden change in mood.  Dangerous the book had said.  Poltergeists could get dangerous.  'But really, what can the ghost girl do?' he thought darkly, suppressing the urge to glare at her.  He spoke instead: "I was just thinking about something else."

            "Let me guess," she said dangerously, her face contorting slightly.  "It was something mean and nasty about my father, wasn't it?"  

            "No," he said again.  Then he sneered.  "But if you would like me to, I will gladly do it.  Even if I have to share it with you."

            "Why do you have to be like that?" she suddenly shrieked, and Draco flinched involuntarily backward from her sudden burst of rage.  'Well that was uncalled for,' he though, struggling hard not to rub his throbbing ears.  But the ghost was not done.  "Why do you have to be such an asshole every minute of everyday?  Why can't you just be nice?!"

            "But I'm not a nice person," he heard himself drawl back at her, not even realizing he was saying it.  But he didn't do anything to replace what he had said.

            "No," she said darkly, moving to float above him.  Draco looked up at her warily.  "No you are not."  Her face contorted even further.  "And I'm sick of it!"

            Before Draco could move, her deathly cold hands had shot down towards him, taking a firm grip on the collar of his robes.  Draco convulsed at the sudden contact.  It was like falling into a lake in winter and he could feel himself begin to shiver.  

            "What do you think you are doing?" he snapped then had to hold back a curse as he felt himself being lifted off the ground.  "Weasley!" he bellowed, his feet dangling beneath him.

            "I'm sick of you Malfoy," Ginny's voice came from above him, and he shuddered at the sound.  He had never heard anything so dark, so angry.  Not even from his father.  'Shit,' he thought weakly.  "I'm sick of having this urge to follow you around.  I'm sick of seeing your stupid face."

            "So what are you doing then?" he demanded, looking wearily down at the ground.  It was a good four feet away.

            "I'm teaching you a lesson," she said simply. Still in that same cold voice.  "And I am going to cure my need to be around you."  And with that she shot off through the air, taking him with her.  

            Draco felt as though his stomach had been left where he had been before as he felt the air around him shoot past.  His hands flew up to her hands, only to pass straight through them, through a waterfall of ice.  He pulled them back, instead grabbing onto the neck of his robes and glaring up at her.  The red head had a determined look on her face.  A look that Draco had seen before on many of his father's friends and associates.  Draco felt himself shudder once more.

            Ginny rounded a corner, and Draco felt his legs fly uselessly to the side, the speed of her flying almost sending them into an alcove in the wall.

            "Watch it Weasley," he snapped, glaring up at her.  Then looking forwards once more he gasped.  "What are you doing?!" he heard himself shriek.  "Are you trying to kill me?!"  

            Ginny was headed straight towards a wall.

            "As a matter of fact," she said simply.  "I am."

            "What?!" Draco screamed up at her, panic in his voice.  She was going too fast.  She was going too fast and the wall was coming closer to him far too fast.  "You can't!  You can't do that!"

            But the poltergeist did not respond.  She didn't even look down at him.  She just kept that determined look on her face and kept right on her course.  And the wall was three meters away.

            Throwing his arms over his face in a desperate attempt to stop the wall, Draco slammed his eyes shut.  'Nice way to die,' he thought bitterly.

            His body came to a sudden halt and he felt his heart throw itself against his ribcage.  He kept his eyes shut, feeling all his organs and all his bones come crashing to the front of his body in slow motion.  Yet it wasn't as painful as he thought it would be.  In fact, it didn't hurt at all.  Then he felt himself fall to the ground where he lay crumpled.

            "Oh Merlin," he heard Weasley say in utter desperation.  "Oh no.  I couldn't have."

            'Wait,' he thought after a moment.  'I can't hear if I'm dead.'  He felt his heart stop.  'But if I'm a ghost...'

            Draco's eyes flew wide and he gasped.  Looking about in a frenzy and patting his body he felt relief wash over him.  He was still whole.  He was still alive.  Then he looked up.

            "I almost killed someone," she gasped, disbelief etched all over her face.  

            Draco stared blankly at her, feeling something growing in his chest.  But it wasn't anger as he had all rights to feel.  It was something far less familiar to the blond.  It was pity.  And it was then that Draco realized that the red headed ghost was just as screwed up as he was.  Just as much in need of help as he was.  That they had something in common.  Some twisted and surreal connection that he didn't quite understand and feared that if he ever did that he would completely lose his mind.

            Her shocked eyes rolled down to him.  He felt his heart stop.  "I almost killed you," she whispered.  It was as though she was scared that if she said it any louder that someone would hear and do something horrid.  "I'm sorry," she gasped, then turned and quickly floated back the way she had come.  "I'm so sorry."

            "Weasley!" he called after her, still seated on the ground.  But the ghost just kept floating away until she was around the corner and out of sight.  

            Draco sat there.  His heart was pounding and it wasn't just from his close brush with death.  He had felt something when he saw her face.  He had felt something that scared him more than anything in the world had ever done before.  

            "This can't be happening," he said aloud in a daze.  

            He fell back against the ground, his head making a soft thunking noise.

            "Ow."

~*~

A/N:  Well there you go.  I have made them all go insane and OOC.  Oh well!  I have the next chapter outlined, but I don't know when it will come out.  Bah.

Many thanks to: **Mme Katie Bell**(Neither would I)**, Dracos gal, Queen of Night(... ~ponders about running away~)****, hpfan90, Ella8(We'll see what happens, but I can't make any promises. :D)**, Sirius' Diamond**(I like your name)**, Darcel**(Perhaps...)****, Rockelle(Thanks for reviewing all my other stuff too)**, o0true0o**(Thanks to you too for reviewing all my stuff)****, j'ashley and ****Amaya(Hmm, I like how that demented rock loving Weasley sounds...)**.__****

If I did not mention your name above then I did not read it.  A while back ffnet had some problems and I could not see about 20 reviews.  I still can't believe that many of you reviewed this piece of crap.  But yes, if you had something you really wanted me to read then please, by all means, review again.  Thanks!

~*~

**A Note From Tiny Q:**

            Just so you all know, I am having real issues with this story at the moment.  It just is not working out the way I want it to.  It was supposed to be a replacement for Fragments and be crazy funny but instead it has mutated into this beast that's all angsty and taunts me in my sleep.  And it's just damn odd as people have told me multiple times.  How do stories warp so?  It's just not fair.

            As well, the more I think about how I was initially going to end it, the more I hate the idea.  And I keep trying to work out the kinks but only get more in the process.  Bah.  So I've been trying to think up a new ending but that just doesn't work because I wrote out the end first and it's all mushy romantic but if I change it it won't be.  And I have even considered doing it Lallie's way, for a very short time mind you.  What is her way you ask?  She kills everyone off when she gets mad.  But no, I will not succumb to that.  Yet.

            So yes, all this pointless and immature whining is just to let you all know that I am putting this story on hold indefinitely.  Perhaps I will get inspiration to fix it all, but I can't see that happening unless I rewrite the whole story.  Which won't happen any time soon.  And it's not like anyone's reading it any more anyways.  So I am sorry to those of you who actually were, but sometimes life's a bitch sometimes.

Sorry again,

Tiny Q


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